He Said What?!

She Took It All

One of Aaron’s favorite things to eat is a Cheddar Pasta Salad from the deli at Dillon’s. The name has actually changed to Cheese Pasta Salad, but to Aaron and to me it’s still Cheddar Pasta Salad. Aaron always gets a large size, watching carefully to see that the container is filled to the brim. We go so often that we’ve gotten to know some of the deli workers, who can always guess what we want when we walk up to the counter.

Yesterday afternoon Aaron asked me if he could have a Cheddar Pasta Salad, so off we went to run an errand before the Chiefs – Titans football game, and then end at the Dillon’s deli. Things were going smoothly, and I was happy that we would make it home in time for the game.

It doesn’t ever seem to matter how carefully I plan our entrance into Dillon’s. Aaron always seems to somehow get ahead of me as we make our way to the deli counter. He is definitely on a mission!

The problem is that he will often push in front of people if there are others standing at the counter. Therefore, he and I are in a foot race as I try to head him off at the draw, before he offends the others who were there before us. Aaron doesn’t care one bit about waiting his turn when it comes to his Cheddar Pasta Salad. He doesn’t notice if people are staring or are angry, if they sigh or if they edge closer to the counter. He only has eyes for the food behind the counter window, looking quickly to see if there is any Cheddar Pasta Salad.

Yesterday there was a mom there with her very cute little girl who was maybe four years old. I made it to the counter just a few steps behind fast Aaron, just in time to touch his arm and remind him that someone was before us in line.

Aaron was very happy to see that there was some Cheddar Pasta Salad in the tray. “Look, Mom,” he said. “They have Cheddar Pasta Salad!”

“That’s what we’re getting, too!” said the friendly mom. “It’s her favorite!” she added as she looked down at her smiling little daughter.

In an instant, I knew that we were in a dilemma.

In an instant, Aaron had figured out that there was NOT enough Cheddar Pasta Salad for both him and the little girl.

And in that instant, Aaron’s face fell.

“Oh boy,” I thought to myself.

The mother was telling me that her little girl just loved the pasta…that she never ate the broccoli…that the mom ate the broccoli…

“There won’t be enough for me!!” Aaron blurted out.

“Yes, Aaron, there will be some for you,” I assured him, while I felt dread creeping up my spine. How far would Aaron go in his disappointment? Would he become angry?

The mother also told Aaron that they weren’t taking all the salad, but Aaron could see that there would not be enough for his large container.

He stared down toward the floor, not making eye contact, as he tried to process the fact that these interlopers were taking HIS Cheddar Pasta Salad!

Their transaction done, the mother told us to have a good day and told Aaron to enjoy his salad.

“Shut up,” Aaron softly replied as he continued looking down at the ground.

I was horrified!!!!

The mother and cute daughter were walking away as I sternly told Aaron to say thank you to them.

He refused.

I told him through firm lips that he would NOT get his salad if he didn’t say thank you.

The girl behind the counter, new to us, was waiting on my order. I fumbled out that we would take the rest of the Cheddar Pasta Salad.

“She took it all,” Aaron flatly said.

My face was flaming.

The mother and little girl were a short distance from us. The container…the medium size and not the large…was being filled with the last of the Cheddar Pasta Salad.

“THANKS!!!” Aaron suddenly bellowed.

And the mother turned and smiled at us. I wondered if she could see the distress on my face, and on Aaron’s as he processed taking home a medium container.

Not a LARGE!!

Then the mom and her daughter turned and walked right behind us. I touched her arm and whispered to her.

“I don’t know if you heard what he said, but I’m so sorry,” I told her.

She said she didn’t hear anything. I softly told her that Aaron has autism, but I could tell she knew.

“Don’t even worry,” she kindly said. “My older daughter works at Open Doors with autism all the time, so I totally understand.”

Relief washed over me…partly because they hadn’t heard Aaron’s comment and largely because she was so kind.

I thanked her, turned back to Aaron…who was staring dejectedly at his medium container…and then she said to me:

“You’re a very good woman.”

I was so surprised! I thanked her.

And I blinked back tears and swallowed the growing lump in my throat.

I was so happy that now Aaron was holding a jar of Chili Fig Spread, excited about his new find, moving on to the next thing as he always does.

He is so oblivious to other’s emotions. So clueless as to the stress he inadvertently creates.

SO unaware of how embarrassing and wrong it is to tell someone to shut up!

But he did just that.

And he will do it again.

So, we give the lectures and we live the example, but none of that can permanently re-wire his brain.

I picked myself up off the floor, figuratively speaking, as I gathered my wits about me and picked up the pieces of my shattered motherly pride.

Yes, my son is the one who told you to shut up.

But this is our life with Aaron.

Aaron, who wants life to fall into place his way and when it doesn’t, is hardly able to do anything but to tell the offender to shut up.

But he DID say thanks!! I’m so thankful for that!!

I DID give him his Cheddar Pasta Salad. Look at his sad face, though.

His medium…not large…Cheddar Pasta Salad.

“She took it all,” he said over and over as we walked through Dillon’s.

“She did NOT take it all!” I reminded him over and over.

We actually got a lot in return at that deli counter.

A large serving of kindness goes a long way!

The Nightie……..Retold

While in Wal-Mart the other day, I noticed that they are in full Valentine’s Day mode. Candy, cards, flowers, clothing………..which sends a little shiver up my spine. Not because I’m so wild about all the Valentine’s Day commercialism, but because of what happened when I was in Wal-Mart with Aaron several years ago. I decided to share this story again because I realize that many of you haven’t read about that little incident. Plus it’s good therapy for me to write about it……to let it out. I’m actually not in therapy, but after reading this story you may think that I should be.

Aaron and I did our typical entrance into Wal-Mart on that particular day…….which means that Aaron stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the crossing as we headed to the entrance. He then held out both arms, like a policeman stopping traffic, which garnered all sorts of attention and stares. I told him to stop like I always did, and he told me that he just wanted to be sure the cars stopped, like he always did.

Once in the store entrance, while I got a cart, I looked over and saw Aaron staring up at the security camera. He had a huge smile on his face and was flashing the peace sign with both hands, while I’m sure the security personnel were busily trying to ascertain Aaron’s threat level. Oh brother. I whisked him on into the store, where I gave him the list of do’s and don’ts as he decided to head by himself to the video section. It was mostly don’ts.

Aaron, don’t make the passing gas sound. And you know why. People think it’s you passing gas for real, or worse yet, when I’m with you they think it’s ME. No, it’s not funny.

And no fox whistles. That could get you in some trouble with boyfriends and husbands.

And lastly, as he took off down the aisle, I told him not to run. There he went, walking briskly with both arms swinging furiously and his rear end swaying back and forth. Quite a sight.

I picked up a few things and then headed over to electronics to pick up Aaron. He was going with me to the grocery section. I saw him looking at videos, and after a brief look at whatever new movie he wanted, I took off down the center aisle with Aaron close behind. I wasn’t paying much attention to what was displayed beside us as we walked………right there on the side of that main aisle.

Valentine nighties. Lots and lots of little nighties. Red ones……black ones…….animal print ones. Some with feathers, even, and others with sequins. My internal alarms should have gone off. You see, Aaron is attracted to the unusual……..and these tiny nighties were most unusual to him. But no, I was focusing on peanut butter and tea bags and frozen mixed vegetables…….not on little, very interesting Valentine nighties.

But Aaron noticed them. Oh yes, he did! Something else I didn’t notice was that Aaron had lagged behind me……..quite a ways behind me. Suddenly I heard his unmistakable loud voice saying, “MOM!”

I turned around in the middle of that very wide aisle full of very many people…….and there stood Aaron, a huge smile on his face……..and holding up a little tiger print nightie. A very tiny tiger print nightie. Things seemed in slow motion from that point forward.

“MOM!” he repeated. “YOU NEED THIS!!!!”

I just stood there, sure that most of the people passing me were thinking, “No, young man. Your mom does NOT need that.”

I wished that I was Korah. You remember Korah, of Old Testament fame, who sinned against God and was swallowed up by the earth as punishment. I would have welcomed that.

But there was no escaping my large, very happy Aaron standing there holding this unique very tiny tiger nightie way up high for me and all the other hundreds of people there to see. OK, there weren’t hundreds but I sure felt like there were. What could I do but tell him to hang it up, and turn and walk once again toward the groceries? I couldn’t wait to stick my head in amongst the frozen vegetables to cool my flaming face.

Aaron couldn’t understand my embarrassment at all. He thought that this was a very funny moment but not awkward. Why wouldn’t mom want to look at this cool tiger print little thing? I just told him to trust me on this, and I was very thankful when we were headed home.

No way was I going to tell him that I liked the red one with the feathers better.

MERCY!! AARON!!

I’m a southern girl. Well, from southern West Virginia – born and bred – so no matter what the Civil War folks say about my home state, I still consider myself to be from the south.

I guess that’s why sometimes I just want to look at Aaron when he’s being a particular form of disagreeable and just say, “MERCY!! AARON!!”

And then tell him that he just needs to hush!!

When I talk to Andrea or Andrew on the phone, Aaron invariably barges in the room and wants to talk. This happened on Saturday evening as Andrea and I were gabbing away. I knew Aaron would persist until I caved, so I finally put the phone on speaker and off Aaron went.

He was particularly fixated on Luigi’s Mansion 3 – his newest Nintendo Switch game. And he was even more fixated on going over Luigi and Gooigi. I think I spelled that right.

He wanted Andrea to know who Gooigi is. What Gooigi is made of. What color Gooigi is. What Gooigi looks like. What Gooigi does.

Andrea, ever patient with her brother, commented on everything Aaron said. She even asked questions…good questions…which fanned Aaron’s flames and off he blazed.

Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.

It took me awhile to put out the flames. I usually have to end the talking by telling Aaron to say goodbye, after he has pushed me away several times from taking back the phone.

Never once does he ask about Andrea or Kyle, or Darcy or Oakley or Aries or Siggy…all dogs, by the way. 😊

For some reason on Sunday evening, Aaron kept referring to that phone call. He declared that I only wanted to talk to Andrea…that I never talk to him (REALLY??!!)…that I would hardly let him talk to her…and so forth and so on.

Everything is bad to Aaron when he gets like this, including the fact that I am a bad mom. I eventually shut down when this happens, meaning that I do not fan the flames of Aaron’s anger by things I say. Even my eyes – “Don’t squint your eyes, MOM!!”…or my voice inflections, can increase his anger.

Nothing that I say helps. Nothing that Gary says helps.

Aaron’s lack of empathy and his inability to connect the dots like we do is a most frustrating part of his autism.

The next morning, weary and bothered, I thought of how my friend – a manager at Aaron’s day group – deals with these issues on the day after they occur. Aaron often doesn’t want to go to Paradigm on that “next day” after he has blown it, but Barb always reminds him of an important truth.

“It’s a new day, Aaron,” she says. “We just start all over and don’t let yesterday bother us.”

Thinking of that…of a new day…reminded me also of the wonderful promise in Lamentations 3:22-23:

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”

God’s love and mercy to me, no matter how much I sin, is new every morning. And I know that I must also face every new morning with Aaron in the light of God’s loving-kindness to me.

If God is so loving and kind to me, how can I be any less to Aaron?

That next morning was still a little rough on Aaron’s part. And then when I picked him up in the afternoon, as I watched him approach the van, I saw him stop and turn, running back into the building.

He returned, holding a paper that blew in the wind as he ran toward me again, his face all smiles.

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“MOM!!” he said as he got in the van. “I colored this for you!”

With great delight he handed me this picture:

I was so touched. So amazed.

Amazed that Aaron sat still long enough to color.

Touched that he wanted to mend our fences in such a sweet way.

And both amazed and touched that it was a cross he colored for me.

You see, it’s because of the cross that I can even begin to love Aaron as I should, especially when he is at times so unlovable.

It’s because Jesus died for me, and because He is my Savior, that I AM loved and that I CAN love.

And I love how the old King James Version says that verse I wrote earlier. “It is because of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.”

I am not consumed by hatred and sin or God’s judgment, but only because of God’s love and mercy.

Love and mercies that are new every morning.

Like I said, how can I love Aaron any less when I am so loved by God?

One more thing. The cross is also the reason that I can bear the sadness and fear of Aaron’s 3:00 a.m. seizure today, and another one later. The reason I can see him sleeping again now and know he may likely seize again.

The reason I can bear up under the disappointment of our doctor day being canceled…because doctor day means, to Aaron, eating out day. And he does LOVE eating out! It’s always a fun and happy day, but not today.

Aaron goes through these disappointments and rough days often, which means I do as well.

But like the verses above said, great is God’s faithfulness. He doesn’t leave me to handle it all alone. He is right beside me, my best friend, with His mercies and love that give me His peace that passes understanding.

Speaking of understanding, I won’t even go into all the detail of having to wash Aaron’s favorite fuzzy blanket today because he spilled coffee on it…and how it’s the only blanket that he wants to use on his lap when he’s at his desk…or on the couch.

About trying other blankets.

Rejecting those blankets.

Checking his blanket in the wash.

Observing me putting it in the dryer.

Following me around the house because without a blanket he can’t sit or lay.

MERCY!!! AARON!!!

Hanging Off – Or On?

Aaron has a way of repeating what we say but changing just one word or even just one letter, and so making us laugh or pause in thought. He has a uniquely Aaron way of expressing himself.

That is, after all, the reason I started this blog and the reason I named it He Said What?!

For instance, yesterday we had some rough weather move through our neck of these Kansas woods. Aaron was concerned, asking about the storms and wondering if he should turn off his computer.

I’ve often shown him the radar and pointed out some storms headed in our direction. I sometimes refer to them as a clump of storms coming our way.

So, as he followed me around the house and fretted over his computer being hit by lightning, he said, “Mom! Is that lump of storms going to hit us?!”

Two words, so similar, yet somehow the difference was enough to make me laugh.

Aaron has become a fan of the television show Chicago Fire. In December the fall finale had the typical…and very unrealistic…cliffhanger. Aaron has talked and talked and talked and talked about those canisters in that basement, surrounded by fire, and whether they would blow up or not!!!

I told him that this was a cliffhanger. Aaron, who is very literal, saw no cliff in that fall finale. He also saw no one hanging from a cliff in that basement.

I therefore…and not for the first time…explained that a cliffhanger is when the show’s producers leave you hanging on after the last show of the season in order to make you come back and watch the first show of the new season.

Hanging ON.

But here is Aaron’s take:

“MOM!! I can’t wait till January 8^th!!

Then he waits for me to ask why he can’t wait till January 8^th.

“Because that’s when Chicago Fire comes back on!!”

Then he waits for me to show excitement. I am a good actress.

“Remember how they left us hanging OFF??!!”

Then I laugh. He thinks my laughter is an expression of my excitement over Chicago Fire resuming.

But my laughter is really about the way he changed my original phrase.

Are we hanging ON…or hanging OFF?

His change-up of that one little word has had me pondering over the past few days.

Hanging OFF a cliff is a scary situation, to put it mildly.

Hanging ON, to me, conveys hope.

In life, when I am hanging off a cliff of fear or dread or disappointment…or any number of other scenarios…I must remind myself to hang ON.

I hang ON to God and to the hope that He gives me.

How often our life with Aaron changes! We can so quickly go from enjoying life:

To the suddenness of seizures:

The above picture was right after Aaron’s third seizure on Christmas Eve, just as we were getting ready to play Christmas Bingo as we Skyped with Kyle and Andrea from Houston.

It’s a stretch for Aaron to want to play games. My first heart reaction was to wonder why. Why must he have a seizure when he was actually willing to sit with us and play a game?

Sometimes his seizures keep him from participating in something that he really wanted to do. That makes me sad for him. Disappointed.

He did arouse enough to play Bingo, but I played his card because he was uncoordinated and shaky…and grouchy, which is typical when he plays Bingo.

Every day…every situation…can be a cliffhanger with Aaron. Will we have seizures to manage? Behaviors to handle?

I do feel like I’m sometimes hanging off a cliff, holding on for dear life, afraid of what’s next and afraid of falling…of failing.

But then I must remind myself that I’m not alone. I know and trust God.

And I hold ON to Him.

I don’t understand everything.

I don’t even like everything.

But I love God, and I know He loves me.

So whatever cliff it is, I do know that I’m not just hanging off.

I reach up and I hang ON to God.

He lifts me up and He rescues me…not from the situation, necessarily…but from the danger of despair and hopelessness that can so easily overwhelm me.

After all, look at what God says about Himself in Psalm 91:15:

“He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble;

I will rescue him and honor him.”

May I remember, every day and in every cliffhanger, that I don’t need to just hang off.

I can hang ON…to the God Who rescues me.

Four or Forty Tops?

Last night Aaron heard The Four Tops song “Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch” on a commercial.

“MOM!! I know who that is!! It’s the TEN TOPS!!”

He can’t seem to decide just how many FOUR Tops there are! Which reminded me of this blog from several years ago. 😅

He Said What?!

Individuals with Asperger’s Syndrome often become fixated on certain areas of interest. This is also called “perseverating.” When Aaron demonstrates this behavior, we call it: “Oh good grief! What’s Aaron stuck on now?!”

On our recent trip back east, he took his CD player with him along with some favorite CDs as well as some CDs he hadn’t listened to often or ever. He loves oldies music and so when he started listening to The Four Tops CD he was captivated. Over and over he played certain songs, and over and over he stared at their picture inside the front cover. I had to look at it; Gary had to look at it – and we had to listen to Aaron talk and talk about The Four Tops. At one point he said, “I love The Forty Tops!” I told him that if they were The Forty Tops then they…

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Changes Ahead

If you know me, and especially if you are a Facebook friend of mine, then you know that I love sky pictures. I have taken hundreds of sky pictures from our upstairs bedroom windows that face the western sky.

Sunsets:

Storms moving in:

Sunrise reflections:

Even a Great Horned Owl that used to perch on the top of our big pine tree (sorry for the fuzzy picture):

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The view changes depending on so many factors. Weather, the time of year, the time of day, trees that have been cut down due to disease, and so much more.

On a recent morning, as I finished my quiet time, I looked out the window and was drawn to the pretty sky outside. But as I prepared to snap some shots of the sky, my eyes also saw this.

Can you see it? Where we once had a farmer’s field across the road from us, we now have a future housing development being built.

Civilization is encroaching upon us. Some call it progress, but we are not exactly happy with how the building of 300 homes will change not only our view, but our traffic and so many other things as well.

But do you know what won’t change? The sky itself won’t change.

I can still relish our beautiful sky, no matter what’s happening on the ground below.

Change is a fact of life. Some changes are exciting and wonderful, while others are sad and fearful.

What’s looming in your view today? Are changes possibly coming in your life that leave you unsettled and scared?

Our focus in those times is vital to our peace. I can choose to be filled with apprehension or to be filled with peace.

Just like I can choose to look at the houses being built, or I can choose to gaze at the sky above…so I can choose to center my attention on my problems ahead or to center my thoughts on God above.

I control my eyes…my thoughts…my focus.

Psalm 123 states this fact perfectly.

To You I lift up my eyes,

O You who are enthroned in the heavens!

Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master,

As the eyes of a maid to the hand of her mistress,

So our eyes look to the Lord our God,

Until He shall be gracious to us.

God is sovereign over our circumstances.

God is also sufficient for us, whatever is our present or our future.

One more thing. The word “gracious” carries the meaning of someone stooping down in kindness to an inferior.

Just like God stoops down in His mercy to me, time after time, to hold my hand and show me His kindness, so He will do over and over as I walk this path of life.

This is my prayer for myself, to keep my eyes on God and not on what is around me or ahead of me.

I control my eyes.

I am so thankful that it is God Who controls my life.

Ever Long

Patience is a virtue, so someone said, but I can tell you that it is not a virtue that Aaron typically possesses.

On an average weekday morning, when Aaron is waking up to the smell of his coffee that I bring to his room, he is also waking up to the reality that he will soon be going to his day group, Paradigm. Hope springs eternal, though, that he can stay home. It’s not that he doesn’t like Paradigm. It’s just that he likes being home more.

I fully expect each morning to be the same and am surprised if it isn’t.

Mom, I have a headache.

Mom, my stomach hurts.

Mom, I didn’t sleep much.

Mom, mom, mom…followed by various stay-at-home excuses.

I leave him to his coffee and his conniving as I go about my own getting-ready morning routine…a routine that Aaron knows all too well.

Eventually, almost always, Aaron comes around and decides on his own to go to Paradigm. The problem is that when Aaron decides to go, he wants to go now.

Like, NOW now.

If Aaron walks into the bathroom while I’m drying my hair, he knows that after drying of the hair comes fixing of the hair.

After fixing of the hair, comes applying of the make-up.

Applying of the make-up may be short…meaning only a dusting of powder and a swipe of blush…and mom is good to go.

But sometimes, after the powder dusting and blush swiping, Mom moves to the dreaded eye make-up.

Eye make-up takes way too long in Aaron’s book on a morning when he has resigned himself to his Paradigm fate. He wants eye make-up to go away…to not be applied. He knows that if Mom moves to her desk in the other bedroom, where she seems to like that light from the window, then her eye make-up is really going to happen.

And now is not NOW!!

NOW must wait.

Waiting requires patience…that virtue that Aaron rarely possesses.

One recent morning, as Aaron hovered behind me in my bathroom watching me in phase one of my getting-ready routine…drying of the hair…he decided to broach the dreaded subject of my make-up amount.

“Mom,” he began, “so when you DO put on make-up, are you going to do it ever long?!”

He sounded positively Shakespearean!! 🙂

On many mornings, however, his impatience with my make-up routine can make him very angry. It’s not that he has a thing against make-up. It’s that he has a thing against waiting.

Just like I often begin my days with Aaron’s lack of patience, I also often end my days with that same impatience brewing in Aaron’s mind. This time his testy attitude surrounds the fact that he knows we will watch a show just before bed. We are working our way now through the series “Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman.”

Last night, being New Year’s Eve, Aaron thought a great way to celebrate would be to watch TWO episodes. He came downstairs at 7:30 to find that I was watching an end-of-year special that I had no idea I would watch and that I had not run by him for his approval.

This was not good. Not good for me or for Aaron.

He let me know that he wanted to watch Dr. Quinn now.

Like, NOW now.

I told him no.

I told him that we would watch Dr. Quinn at 8:00.

Waiting for 8:00 was ever long for Aaron. And he let me know, as he went up the stairs to his room and down the stairs to the family room…over and over and over…that 8:00 was unacceptable.

I stuck to my guns, but not without facing Aaron’s wrath.

In fact, I finally marched to my bedroom…got my purse…put on my coat…and told Gary that I was going out for a drive, in order to clear my head.

Aaron just watched, not saying a word. I do believe he was scared. While I was gone, he stayed in Gary’s study. Gary was a captive audience with his leg all bandaged and propped up from his recent foot surgery.

I talked to God while I drove. I told him that I feel a little blank anymore, wondering what He wants to show me or teach me in this life I live. I told God that I want to be patient with Aaron, and that when I’m not, I don’t want to sin in my impatience and anger.

That’s the tough part…not sinning when I am also the one not exercising that virtue of patience.

While I was out driving, I saw a section of beautiful lights still on full display in a neighborhood. I went home, got Aaron, and together we drove through the pretty lights.

No lecture. No mention of his anger.

Just enjoying the bright beauty around us.

It was calming to us both.

And it was surprising to Aaron, I could tell.

Surprising to him that I wanted to simply show him something pretty…something that he loves…when he had just been so mean to me.

Aaron needs to learn to wait. It’s hard on both of us as I continue to try to teach him that virtue.

I read this morning some of my old notes from my Genesis Bible study I recently completed. In talking about how Abraham had to wait on God to give him a son, Joyce Baldwin said this:

“God’s delays are not God’s denials.”

A delay doesn’t mean no.

To prove His promise to Abraham of a son to come, God had Abraham look up into the heavens. God told Abraham to count the stars…the bright shining stars. He told Abraham that so would be his descendants, innumerable like the stars up above.

But the promise wouldn’t happen now.

Like NOW, now.

But Abraham, while watching others have sons and grandsons, had to wait on God to fulfill His promise in a most unlikely way and time.

Abraham had to believe God…had to trust God…and it was counted to him as righteousness.

God did fulfill His promise to Abraham, in His own time. Not in Abraham’s preferred time.

And this is where and how Abraham grew in his faith. As Baldwin says, “Faith rests on the fact that God is faithful, and when we take God at His word, we prove for ourselves His faithfulness.”

Aaron needs to learn to trust me and to be patient when he must wait on something.

I need to learn to trust God and to be patient when I must wait on Him as well.

Waiting on Him to show me what I need to learn…to give me grace for life with Aaron…to not compare myself to others…and a myriad of other reasons and ways that I must wait on God.

Bright lights calmed me and Aaron.

Bright stars calmed and settled Abraham in his faith.

Because God is faithful, I can have faith. Faith in God even during the hard times.

Faith to wait, even when fast answers don’t come.

Aaron and I did watch two Dr. Quinn episodes. It took ever long, but we did.

I kept my promise…and so does God.

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Does God Like Me?

From two years ago:
“Do I have seizures because God doesn’t like me?” Aaron asked. This is like a question Job would ask, and I wanted to give the right answer without being too shallow or too deep.

He Said What?!

“Mom?” Aaron asked last night as he was going through his ever-important bedtime routine. I was ready for yet another question about what the SS means on the side of the Poseidon…or what kind of vision do the aliens on Pacific Rim have…or what is the quick freeze on The Day After Tomorrow movie? So I just absently responded with my all-too-often reply.

“Hmmm?” I absently answered as he stood beside me in the bathroom, watching me put something away.

“Do I have seizures because God doesn’t like me?” he continued.

And I stopped…stopped dead in my tracks at this very unexpected question.

I looked up from what I was doing, into his very serious face.

“I just wondered if I have seizures because God doesn’t like me,” he continued.

Wow!

This is like a question Job would ask, and I wanted to give the right answer without being too…

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I Love This Place!

For the past few weeks I’ve felt like I live in a snow globe. I’m a figure that’s not fastened down, so when the globe is shaken I just fly all around with the snow. Crazy, to say the least!

Gary and I knew that this was going to happen:

Thankfully his foot surgery was planned and on our calendars many weeks ago. We had time to prepare, even throwing in some minor things like having two bedrooms remodeled. You know how that is. Emptying the rooms of everything; deciding on what supplies to purchase; purchasing supplies; going through drawers and shelves and making multiple donation trips to Goodwill; the remodel itself (great job, Distinctive Designs!!); cleaning; putting everything back in the rooms; and heavy furniture up the stairs or down the stairs (thank you to our son, Andrew, home for Thanksgiving!).

Then there was decorating and preparing for Christmas with all the shopping and wrapping and mailing and cards and cooking yet to do.

Oh, and let’s throw in cleaning our big storage room two days before surgery! Why not??!!

In the midst of it all, there is Aaron. Aaron…trying so hard to maintain his normal.

Aaron’s normal is very vital to him. His normal is as vital to him as breathing or eating. Normal gives him stability and predictability, which he needs to maintain his balance.

Gary and I can roll with the flow, stressful as that flow may sometimes be. Aaron…not so much. When his normal flow of life is redirected…shaken like the snow globe…Aaron most often will react instead of handling the change. Then whatever is causing his life change, as he sees it, becomes the enemy.

The enemy may be an event. That’s why holidays, parties, trips, or other out-of-the-norm happenings can rock his world. Aaron’s world is what he makes it. His world is set and settled in his brain, everything in its place. His days flow with an established pattern. Can we all spell “ROUTINE?!”

The enemy may also be a person. Any person who disrupts his pattern of life or his way of doing life becomes a huge problem to him. Just ask his siblings about our Christmas family time every year. We all know to expect at least one “Christmas Meltdown” every year. The meltdown often involves some aspect of our family Christmas Eve Bingo game, which combines a party atmosphere with a lot of crazy thrown in from the annoying people who are on his turf and messing up his routine.

Autism at it’s finest, let me tell you!

When Gary and I arrived home the day of his surgery, Aaron was so very happy to see us. I saw him scan over Gary’s huge wrapping with his ever-observant eyes, but Aaron never asked how the surgery went or how Gary was feeling.

Instead, Aaron talked up a storm as we got Gary settled in bed. He ran up to his bedroom, returning with a soft blanket of his that he wanted Gary to use. He ran outside in the dark and brought in our trashcans that were at the end of the driveway. He kept looking for ways to help and was just SO happy to have us home. I’m not sure how much of that happiness rested on the fact that his dad was all right or on the fact that we were home, at last, and now life could be back to normal.

Normal! Right?!

Wrong.

Dad was in the guest bedroom. Mom had to make trips down to Dillon’s for meds and food that sounded good to Dad and drinks to settle his stomach. Dad wasn’t talking much and Mom was distracted. People were calling. Or coming to the house.

The morning after surgery, Aaron was getting edgy. We knew it. And Gary, bless his heart…in the shape he was in…managed to ask Aaron about his game he was playing. Aaron was off and running then! Talk, talk, talk!! Talk about what he loved and what he understood and what mattered to him.

Honestly, Dad’s foot and leg all propped up on the living room couch didn’t matter to Aaron at that point. How Dad slept didn’t matter. Dad’s possible pain didn’t matter.

It seems heartless to us, but we know Aaron. We know how autism is often defined by a narcissistic way of viewing the world.

We had some storms that first week. It got rough. My reactions weren’t always kind and loving toward Aaron.

Then after the snow would settle in our upside-down snow globe world, Aaron would look at us and immediately launch into talk of aliens and outer space and his latest movie and anything…ANYTHING…but real life and feelings and concern for us. Then his anger would erupt if he sensed our lack of interest in what he was saying.

Just so exhausting.

One night after going around and around, Aaron regrouped quickly and stood by Gary in the living room talking about what show he was watching or game he was playing. This was Aaron’s happy place with his captive audience.

This past week, our second week post-surgery, Aaron came down with the crud bug. Fever, cough, sore throat, aching all over. A doctor visit, some meds, and he is better. But again, a sick Aaron was a touchy Aaron.

Until he thought of Christmas lights.

“Mom?” he asked on evening. “Can we go look at the lights on the big white house?”

It wasn’t necessarily what I had time or interest in at that moment, but I saw the hope on his face and so off we went. We saw the lights and then drove on to look at some other lights close by in several neighborhoods.

A couple nights later, after our neighbor mentioned a near neighborhood that was all decked out in lights, Aaron and I went out again. House after house was glowing and flashing and bright and fun. Aaron was mesmerized, leaning forward in his seat and very still, with a smile on his face.

“I LOVE this place!!” he finally exclaimed.

It warmed my heart so much for him to express such joy.

It warmed my heart to be the one who showed him this place he loved.

I’ll admit that sometimes I don’t love this place where God has us. Life with Aaron can be very tiring. He requires or demands things from us that we at times have no energy or interest in giving.

This place isn’t always bright and pretty and rewarding and fun. Sometimes we wonder why we’re here and what we’re doing.

But this place is where God has put us.

Aaron is God’s gift to us.

Sometimes we don’t feel that sentiment. Gary and I get weary…lonely…at the end of ourselves.

I’m sure the man Jesus…God’s Son…felt all that and more, thousands of times over, as He walked this sad earth.

And because Jesus walked with us, He also understands our weaknesses and our human thoughts. He is here with us to give us His grace and enable us to do the same with Aaron.

Aaron may not always love this place, either. When his life is askew and he is miserable, loving this place is the last thing on his mind.

But may he know, when the snow is settled and the storm is over, that HE is loved.

Loved by God, as are we…and loved by his parents.

May this place, where we are at the moment, be a place of love when all is said and done.

And may your place, dear one…hard as it may be…be a place filled with God’s love for you and through you.

Bright like the lights of this beautiful season!

My Airport Glory Story

In March of last year, 2018, I flew to Houston for a very happy trip. Our daughter, Andrea, was getting married in the fall and so this weekend in March was to be full of trying on wedding dresses and making wedding plans.

Of course, I had a layover in Dallas. There I sat in the terminal, catching up on social media and emails, when a fast movement caught my eye. I looked up to see a little bird flying among the ceiling beams. He would sit up there staring down at all the waiting passengers, though our area was people sparse at that time. He would observe for a minute, then fly down and land on the carpet, where a few passengers would toss him bites of bread or crackers. He was a cute little thing and broke the dull monotony of the usual airport terminal happenings.

I noticed a woman sitting not too far from me, within talking range, who was also enjoying the little bird. Our eyes met and we both smiled. We began talking about the bird. One thing led to another and we realized that we had much in common. The military…where we had lived…daughters in Texas…shared names. She introduced herself as Johnnie Latham and had soon moved closer to where I sat so we could talk even more.

The best and brightest thing we quickly knew about each other is that we were sisters in Christ. Believers understand this connection that is very evident, even when you meet a stranger. It’s the Holy Spirit, and the communion that two people have due to that indwelling is very real and very obvious.

Johnnie and I talked up a storm as we sat there. Gone were our phones as we talked and talked, enjoying every minute. Gone was the terminal drudgery of the airport as we crammed as much conversation as we could into the now short time we had before boarding the plane.

All too soon, it was time to board. We said our goodbyes and it was so nice to meet you as we got in line, with Johnnie several people behind me. Before long, I had taken my seat near the back of the plane. No one was in the seat beside me and it appeared, as passengers boarded, that my next-door seat would remain empty.

As I settled in and looked up, I saw Johnnie headed my way. We hadn’t compared seat numbers. Why would we? But closer and closer she came, looking at her boarding pass for her row and seat number. Then there she stood, confirming her assigned seat…and you guessed it! Her seat was the one beside me!!

We squealed and laughed and exclaimed our disbelief! Other passengers, I’m sure, were curious at this loud display of happiness over an airline seat!

“God wanted us to sit together!” Johnnie exclaimed as I fully agreed.

We just THOUGHT we had talked in the terminal. Now we were on full-speed motor-mouthed conversation! We spent the entire flight from Dallas to Houston sharing with each other as fast as we could. And I’m sure we shared with everyone around us because we had a hard time talking softly! We had stories to tell! We had examples of God’s goodness to talk about. We laughed. We praised God. We cried. The whole time was really sweet and amazing and so very special.

“Let’s take a selfie!” Johnnie said through her laughter.

So, she snapped this quick picture of the two of us.

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And just like that, before we were ready, we landed in Houston. Our fellowship was over all too soon. I had never regretted finishing a flight like I did that one.

We hugged, said our goodbyes, friended each other on Facebook, and waved goodbye once more across the Houston terminal as we parted ways.

We kept in touch over Facebook through the next year. And one day earlier this year, her life changed. Johnnie was diagnosed with cancer. Now she became a fighter as she endured all the tests, the chemo, the hospital stays…struggles that I can’t fathom. Struggles for her and for her dear husband, daughters, and grandchildren.

But never turning her back on God. Never giving up hope, even knowing that her final healing might come in heaven instead of earth.

And so it seems that this will be the case. Her cancer has spread in her brain and there is nothing more to be done on earth. She is home now, on Hospice care.

Her husband, Jack, said this in a post I read: “She will win because she will be with our savior and she is looking forward to that day.”

Victory!! Johnnie and I shared victory stories on that plane…me about my dad and Johnnie about her sister. Now Johnnie will have the most powerful victory story of all!

What an impact this woman made on me in such a short time! I can only imagine the huge impact she’s had on her family and friends who have relished life with her for years.

And I was thinking about how we both thought we didn’t have enough time on that day to share and talk and laugh and cry. It wasn’t enough time.

But oh, we WILL have enough time one day!

We’ll have all of eternity to talk and share and laugh and worship God together. In person!!

But we won’t cry. No tears in heaven!

So, Johnnie, you hold my seat this time and I’ll join you in heaven one day.

I can hardly wait to hear you laugh on that day!

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